


Day Of The (Genius) Dead

by jazzfic



Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: Crack, Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzfic/pseuds/jazzfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The zombie always knocks thrice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Of The (Genius) Dead

It's the last copy in the city, perhaps the entire state of California. Sheldon's in a state of anticipatory glee, every nerve in his superhero-loving brain jumping like water molecules at 99.97 degrees. He reaches to pick it up--

"Ow!"

He whips around, then stares down at his hand. There are marks on the skin, bleeding, just a little. He stands very still, thinking.

"Hey, last copy, Sheldon." It's Stuart, wandering over. The store is almost empty.

Sheldon is still looking at his hand. They almost look like...teeth marks.

Teeth. Bacteria. Rabid dogs.

"Sheldon?"

Sheldon opens his mouth once, twice. Then he closes it, lets out a strangled yelp, and high-tails it out of the store.

The comic drops to the floor, fluttering delicately. Stuart picks it up, smooths the covers and puts it back on the shelf. He turns away, not noticing the dark shape that flees from under the tee shirt wall and to the door, into the outside world.

~

After that, things happen.

But not in the expected order.

And not at the expected time.

Actually, now that Sheldon thinks about it, everything that happens is entirely wrong. For a man who has been bitten by a rabid dog of the apocalypse, he's not exactly displaying the correct symptoms. He's not frothing at the mouth, jerking from seizures in the brain, or talking in new, interesting languages that died with the Pharaohs.

What Sheldon is doing, alone in the apartment on a quiet Sunday afternoon, is pulling at his fingernails, watching with curious detachment as they fall into the bathroom sink, and wondering how much longer he will have to wait until Leonard gets back and Sheldon can snack on fresh brains.

~

His patience runs out one and a half minutes later.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"Mmmpf-enny," mumbles Sheldon.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"Mmmpf-enny."

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"Mmmpf-enny."

He stares at the door, swaying slightly. Well, perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he is learning new languages after all.

~

"Hey, Sheldon." Penny's in an expansive mood, letting him in with a smile. The television is blaring, on it a young woman with legs up to her ears poses 'moodily' before a camera-toting, leather clad man, who is sporting a triangle of fuzz on his chin and geometrically unappealing eyeglass frames.

She crashes back onto the couch, takes a swig at the can of diet Pepsi sitting on the coffee table, and looks up at him.

"Well? Are you going to come in or just stand there?"

Sheldon shuffles over. His arms and legs feel like they're made of lead. It takes him several long moments to work out how to lower himself down on the other end of the couch. Once again, Penny fails to notice. She laughs at something onscreen, snorting derisively.

He listens to the not-unappealing sound of Pepsi bubbles fluttering through her nasal cavity, and groans.

And then Sheldon remembers why he came.

"Oh god, as if that's going to be good enough for her to stay on. I've taken better shots while spinning drunk in a photo-booth! Tyra's going to crack a bitc--Shel... _Sheldon!_ "

She tries to pull away but his mouth is already at her neck. Her skin takes like something heavy, syrupy, too-sweet. Sheldon is lost in a dream where electrons pop and cling in a time-slowing fog, where he can't rationalise anything except this moment, this feeling, and his hunger for-- _dear lord in heaven_ \--human flesh.

He locks his teeth around her earlobe, and bites.

~

An hour later, they're still on the couch. Penny stares at the screen, stares at Tyra Banks and her crazy Princess Leia hairdo, and groans happily. Sheldon sits beside her and circles his wrist until it ends up in a backwards angle.

The room's in a state of disarray; they've forgotten everything about the world but their own names. But at least they're not hungry any more.

Until a certain roommate gets home, that is.


End file.
